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It was strange, but after spending time with him, I recognized each of his personalities, could tell them apart. The memory of the smile he’d given me after I’d told him the truth burned in my memory, the way it had wrapped around him to hide his true feelings. He did that a lot, didn’t he?
Who was the real man? Did he even know?
He walked through the front door, and a woman in scrubs stood at the large front desk. Her clearly fake smile turned real when she spotted Char.
“You’re back!”
A bad feeling grew inside me. If he’d been here before, was he trying to ingratiate himself to these people? A pit in my stomach gnawed at me.
“Hello, Lucy,” Char said, that cheerful, friendly voice the same one I’d heard that first day, that I’d heard directed at others since then but never me. “How have you been?”
“Good—just working, you know? I didn’t know you’d be by today.”
“Is it a bad time?”
“Of course not, not for you! Go on in—you know the way.” She gave him a similar look to the receptionist at the office building we’d been in, as though he could make anyone smitten with him in moments.
It wasn’t quite the same way Vance did, where he used his name and position to draw people in. He was who he was no matter whether people liked it or not, and it just worked for him.
Char, on the other hand, got people in his grasp by impressive observation and manipulation. I’d watched him do it enough to see through it, how he took note of every reaction and changed his behavior to better suit his need.
I followed him, staying to his side and just behind him. The home was nicer than I would have expected, though I supposed I had little experience with them in general. I just knew what I’d seen on television before, expecting a dim and dingy place that smelled slightly of death.
Instead, bright light poured in through the large windows and the people we passed all appeared rather happy.
We entered a large room with tables set around, many folks at all the different spots. Puzzles sat on some tables, while others had people playing cards or chess or just talking. The atmosphere was pleasant, relaxing.
“Char!” an aged voice called out, drawing my attention to the table it had come from. An older woman sat in a wheelchair there, her long gray hair braided back and away from her face. Wrinkles showed, many of them around her lips, like a scrapbook of all the times she’d smiled and laughed over her life.
Char waved before heading that way, his expression still the same one he’d used with the receptionist.
No, notquitethe same, I realized. I spotted just the smallest hint of real affection in this look, one that had been missing with the women before.
“How are you feeling, Claire?” Char asked before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the woman’s cheek.
She laughed and slapped his arm. “You’re incorrigible, you know that? I didn’t know you were going to stop by today. If I’d known, I’d have made some cookies.” She paused, then looked past Char to me. “And who is this lovely young lady?”
Despite my unease at being here, my worries about what Char might be up to, I smiled at Claire. “My name is Kenz.”
“What a pretty name. I’m Claire. Please, take a seat.” She waved toward the other chairs at the table, the large puzzle in front of her.
Char sat, and I took a seat beside him.
“How do you know each other?” Claire asked.
I darted my gaze over to Char, unsure what to say. He’d given me an idea of what to say when dealing with Mr. James, the part I was to play, but he’d said nothing about this stop. While I didn’t love the idea of whatever he might be up to here, I didn’t want to step on his toes, either. I’d learned from the last job how dangerous these could get.
“She’s a friend,” Char said with a shrug.
“A friend, hmm?” Claire lifted one of her white eyebrows, then chuckled. “Is that what kids are calling it now? Ah, to be young and in love again.”
He sighed, as though the words were unwelcome but not unexpected. “This ishardlylove. Besides, don’t pretend you can’t fall in love again. I’ve heard ninety is the new sixty.” His words came out almost playful.
“Love requires a certain level of stupidity that you lose when you reach my age. It’s for the foolish, for those who don’t know how unwise it is.”
“But you’re still as feisty as anyone in their twenties,” Char pressed.
“Can you believe that they had a makeup artist come in here last week to give us makeovers?” Claire shook her head, though her eyes remained alight with laughter.
